


Those Whom True Love Has Held

by Chloe_at_Eleusis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 12:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chloe_at_Eleusis/pseuds/Chloe_at_Eleusis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Those whom true love has held, it will go on holding.' -Seneca. </p>
<p>His godfather asked him to take care of her; he can't even take care of himself. So what now? AU. Rated for language. ::On indefinite hiatus.::</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Fucking Merlin. We don't have time for this, Granger!"

"Leave!" She screamed it in a voice that should have shredded her throat.

The shrieking wind took the word and tossed it toward him, mangling it mercilessly on the way; he heard only a high keening. Luckily he could read her lips. But then, considering the mixture of tears, mucus, dirt and blood that smeared her face, and the way that she was weaving back and forth even on her knees, it was amazing that she could talk at all.

"I don't give a fuck what you want. He made me promise, and if I have to Petrify you to get you out of here, I will. Get _up_ , Granger." His tone was caressing, spoken with his lips brushing her ear, the fey moonlight silk of his hair brushing against her cheek; his pincer grip on her upper arms, the brutal pinioning halt to her swaying collapse, belied it.

" _Now_." The one-word command matched the iron of his grip.

He had scarcely more energy left than she. Instead of lifting her he knelt behind her, wrapping her in a restraining hold that pulled her length against him. He would need the bodily contact to make sure she was safe on arrival, he thought vaguely. It had nothing to do with a reluctance to turn from the crumpled black-clad shape in front of them, from the man whose blood smeared her hands.

As he drew a deep breath, attempting to focus his mind enough to ensure a safe Apparition, a stray shaft of light broke from the massed thunderclouds, clearing his blurring vision briefly, striking a stray gleam from the raven hair of the still form, glossing its pale, pale skin with a sheen of gold. The trembling woman in his arms uttered a low, despairing wail, a groan so soft and prolonged and breathy that it seemed to his exhausted mind as though she would not, could not, inhale again.

The light disappeared. He shut his eyes to concentrate and Apparated them.

He told himself that the sudden wetness of his cheeks was the long-threatened rain.


	2. Chapter 2

They arrived in his bedroom, the long distance more than worth the effort for the sudden silence, the shelter from the tearing winds—the near-impregnable wards. He was, after all, the last person alive who could cross them.

He felt for and disarmed the pureblood screening hex on the four walls before letting go of her. She crumpled forward and lay on the white carpet open-eyed, staring at nothing. Her slight form, clothing filthy with the muck of the battlefield, tendrils of irrepressible hair escaping its braid, just breathing. Barely. _Broken_. _Oh, Merlin and Morgana._ Severus had been right.

 _She will not be able to function should it happen, Draco. She has lost—too much, and not enough. And_ —the effortless satin of his voice had stumbled, briefly— _she has not had the time to accustom herself to the idea of expected losses. She will not—cannot—accept it._ Though he was one of the handful of human beings that had seen that spark of affection in his godfather's eyes, Draco had never before seen that small double quirk of lips on his features, one which would have been a wry smile on any other man. Even if he had, he would not in his lifetime have expected either to accompany the next words Severus spoke: _Bloody Gryffindors._

Eyes blurring again with what he could no longer deny were tears, he looked at the Gryffindor in question. _What do I do now, Godfather?_   She lay small and shattered on his floor, near-catatonic in shock and grief: The only person who had loved his godfather more than he had, loved him with all the fierce passion of her crusading Gryffindor soul, with all the untapped, bounteous tenderness of her overlooked and undervalued heart. The woman whose relentless intelligence had pieced together Severus' story, whose pellucid integrity had convinced both he and the Order to chance trust in one another again.

The woman who had been widowed 10 minutes ago. His godfather's wife, Hermione Granger.

He raised his wand as he turned to the fireplace and lit the fire, casting a ward specifically designed—designed by the woman huddled on his floor—to grant Floo access to only seven people. Three—his parents and his godfather—were dead. _Oh, Severus…_

The male two-thirds of the Golden Trio still strode the battlefield, dispatching the suicidal Death Eaters determined to destroy all they could before the death of their erstwhile Lord overtook them.

The last two were in this room, and safe.

 _Safe._ His lip curled even as his vision blurred further. He sheathed his wand, wordlessly locking it to his arm, and bent to her, gathering her gently into his arms with the last reserves of his strength. Awkwardly, muscles straining even with the small effort, he climbed into black-sheeted bed, holding her against his body. Arranged them both on the bed, tucking her against him, her head under his chin. Summoned his coverlet with a word, thanking once more the Manor's extensive inbuilt charms.

Felt the tiny, tiny tremors which shook her frame. Had the unnerving idea that her body was summoning its reserves to jolt itself, that its pulsing current was close to sputtering out.

Murmured a quiet _Somnus_ over her head, feeling the fluttering shudders die slowly away.

Did not remember closing his eyes. Breathed deeply once. Twice.

Hoped his eyelids were the reason for the darkness which swallowed him.


	3. Chapter 3

Remembered voices echo in the close dark. _Are you Father's brother?_

 _Why should you ask me that, little shining one?_ It is Godfather's pet name for him. No one else calls Draco that. He likes it.

_Because Pansy said that godfathers are brothers of Mummys or Fathers and you spend more time talking to Father._

A deep laugh. _Well observed, Draco. No, I am not Lucius' brother. He is one of my closest friends, and he honored me with the request that I be your Godfather because—_

Father's voice. _Because Severus is the closest thing I will ever have to a younger brother. Because he is the only man I would trust to father you in my absence._ A light, rich chuckle full of humor. Father only laughs like that at home. _And because, Draco Berek Malfoy, you must have at least one parent who will show you the weight and value of pure intellect, as your mother and I cannot._

Draco doesn't understand why Father and Godfather start laughing at this, but he laughs with them anyway.

* * *

The search has defeated him. _Father, what does my name mean?_

A frown. _Were you not taking astronomy?_

_Yes, Father. I know of the constellation—I meant my middle name._

_Still looking, are you?_

_Yes. I have not found it in the family histories or the wizarding histories or even in astronomy._

_Why have you not asked me before?_

_I—wanted to find it for myself, Father._ He doesn't say, _I wanted to make you proud of me._ He doesn't need to.

_Did you assume I knew?_

Draco's eyes round. _I—of course, Father. You gave me the name, why—_

 _Ah._ His father smiles and puts up a finger. _Never assume._

_Then who—?_

_Ah._ The finger wags gently in reprimand.

He pauses, collects himself. _Father, did you give me that name?_

_No._

Draco blinks rapidly. _Did Mother give me that name?_

_No._

_Do you know what that name means?_

_Yes._

_Will you tell me where to find that information?_

_Yes._ Lucius smiles and answers the next question as well. _Severus._

_Why would I ask Godfather?_

_Because he was the one who chose that name for you, Draco._

* * *

_But why, Godfather? Why_ me _, of all people? Potter and Weasley- there's a rift now, yes, but they're still the Golden Trio. They still love her._

 _They do, yes._ Severus' voice is weary. _But they do not_ understand _her, Draco._ _They never have. And they cannot understand her bond with me. When I die in this_ —at Draco's indrawn breath, he stops, and in a rare display of compassion, amends his statement— _If I die in this battle, they will not understand her grief. And she will be more alone with them caring for her than if she were left to herself._

The baritone voice softens. _I am sorry. I know it is a burden to you. I know you are not friends, have never been friends. But there is no one else to whom I would trust her care._ At Draco's haggard, questioning look he elaborates. _You have your own strength, though you may not see it. You will come into it, you know, someday soon._ Seeing the doubt, the self-contempt, in Draco's face, Severus' voice deepens. _Trust me, if you cannot trust yourself, little shining one._

Draco's head jerks up. It has been years since Severus called him that, much longer since he has seen such gentleness directed at him. _Are you ever going to tell me what it means, Godfather?_

_I have explained the word-_

_Not the_ word _, Godfather._ The formal address does not mask Draco's chagrin. _It's my_ name.

_Yes, Draco. I'll tell you. But not today._


	4. Chapter 4

He wakened instantaneously, as his tutors had trained him long ago to do—and as _he_ had trained _himself_ to do, did not move, did not open his eyes. He felt the weight in his arms— _Hermione_. Prying his eyelids open to look down at her took more effort than usual.

She was sleeping quietly, at least, though it was clear that if his arm had not been about her waist, holding her against his side, she would have been curled into a fetal position. Her chin was down, her hands fisted and tucked beneath it, and he could not see her face. But he could feel the dampness on his shirt, feel it spreading by the moment.

He shut his eyes. Talking to her once she woke would do no good if he had no idea of her mental state. He was about to break one of the most basic ethical rules of Legilimency. Severus would have been appalled.

Draco smiled slightly at the thought of his so-jaded godfather displaying a reaction so _jeune manqant_. _Severus was never appalled. Amused or incensed, but never appalled._

But he would have been disappointed in Draco. The thought of his parents' or godfather's disapproval or disappointment had always been enough to wipe all happiness from Draco's face. _I'm sorry, Severus._ He looked down at the slight, furled body and ragged hair of the woman weeping silently against his chest while she slept. _I'm sorry, Hermione._

" _Legilimens._ "

* * *

_Her mind is a blinding whirl of grief, rage, the sheer pain in her psyche nearly strangling his discipline. He fights through the tempest, seeking the center of the storm, an eye of calm from which he can probe selectively._

_And finds it. It startles him to find it divided into neat compartments, the strong, flexible walls and characteristic organization telling him immediately that his godfather had had at least one other pupil as accomplished in Occlumency as Draco._

_He reaches for one of the compartments and is shocked by the strength it is taking for him to force his way inside those deceptively smooth, giving walls. Legilimency on a sleeping witch should have been nearly effortless, Occlumens or no—hence the ethical restrictions on its use on those who are unconscious._

_Even in his startlement he is near-awed by the strength of this witch's mind. This has been a long and ugly war, and too often he has seen witches and wizards break under the weight of the kind of anguish he sees in her. For her mind to be so powerful, even at such a time—in her sleep and in the midst of crushing grief—_ No wonder she and Severus were so well-mated.

_The thought of Severus draws his attention to another compartment, slightly larger than all but a few of the others, and situated near the center of the matrix of chambers. He reaches for it and nearly exhausts himself pushing inside._


End file.
